“So you don’t want anything to drink then?”
“I want you to tell me why I’m in here.”
He nodded. “That’s fair. The reason I’ve brought you in here is because, as I’m sure you already know, after the first forty-eight hours of someone being missing, the chances of finding them safe and sound become much smaller.”
I felt my breath hitch and did everything in my power to not let it show.
Of course I knew that. Everyone knew that. But hearing it in this context, referring to my missing sister, made me want to throw up.
“When we get to this point, where a search is still ongoing but not providing us with the leads we’d like, we have to go back to brass tacks. We need to find out who would want to hurt Hazel, and why.”
“You think she’s dead then,” I said, my voice firm and cold.
Pullman looked taken aback. He fidgeted. “Unfortunately, with a case like this, it’s a possibility. Not definite, obviously—”
“But it’s whatyouthink.”
He sighed, looking genuinely sorrowful. “Yes, that’s what I think.”
I didn’t feel the sob coming before it suddenly ripped through me. I was usually better at keeping myself together. On television. With the police. I was quick to anger, but I always tried to keep the tears to myself. But hearing this detective talk so easily about my little sister being dead sent me over the edge. Two fat tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them.
“Would you like a tissue?” Detective Pullman asked.
“Fuck you,” I snapped, wiping at my eyes. “And your fucking opinions.”
I knew it wasn’t fair. I had asked. And I’d known what he was going to say, but still I hated that he’d made me cry.
He looked immediately regretful. “I’m sorry, Rose. I shouldn’t have said that.” He shook his head. “I was trying to be honest with you. I read your book. It was very to the point. I thought you’d appreciate a more straightforward approach. But that was unprofessional. I’m sorry.”
He slid a box of tissues my way. I grabbed one from the box. “So you read it?” All the local cops knew about it, but I figured there was probably some boycott on actually reading it.
The detective paused and offered me a gentle smile. “Of course I did. It’s a big deal here.”
I rolled my eyes, the implication clear.
“Based on the subject matter, I didn’t think I was going to like it, but I’ll admit, you know how to tell a story.”
I leaned over the table slightly. “I’ve been told.”
His mouth twitched, a little amused. “I always wondered,” he said carefully, “how much fact-checking you did?”
I narrowed my eyes. “First of all, I lived it. I am a walking, talking, breathing fact-checker. And second of all, it’s fiction. I’m not legally obligated to fact-check anything.”
“‘Fiction,’” Pullman mimicked air quotes. “Right.”
“Can we get back to whatever you need to ask me?” I pressed.
Pullman turned to the side to reach for his notebook in his bag. He was barely thirty, but from the side, with his buzzed haircut, he could have been younger than me.
“I know we touched on this a few days ago, but now that you’ve had some time to marinate on it, do you have any idea who could have hurt your sister? Anyone, for any reason?”
“None that you’d take seriously.”
“Humor me,” Pullman asked, leaning back in his chair. His face had softened a little.
“I told you guys the first time we talked.Ifsomething did happen to Hazel,” I said, making sure theifwas a big one, “maybe it’s because that person has already killed someone here and gotten away with it.”
There was a screech as Pullman’s metal chair scraped across the concrete floor so he could lean closer to me, his elbows on the table. He was completely focused, his eyes boring into mine.
